Unrequited
by champsissy
Summary: Its been three years since Howl left Korra's side. (Sequel to Embrace)
1. Memories

_A/N Guess who's back~_

* * *

"_Howlllllll!"_

The flapping of his crumpled up papers in the late summer breeze broke his concentration, bringing him back to the present. Heart and head throbbing, he opened golden eyes and glanced around. No Avatar. No Korra. As usual. With a sigh, he shook his head, blinking furiously to wash away the bathing sunlight as it tickled his skin. His papers were scattered throughout the dark blades, crumpled up in his frustration.

Three years and he could still hear her voice, as clear as day. He could still feel her caressing touch without even trying to remember, could still listen to her seductive whispers as he fell asleep. He could still see their one and only fight as he stormed away, having learned her true feelings for him and for the other man that she…no. He couldn't think about her anymore. She may have been deep under his skin, but he was not one to let her get to him that easily. Instead, he decided that he'd done enough writing for the day and packed up the remaining paper with another sigh. His muscles hurt, his mind sore. He shouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch again, but sleeping in the bed was difficult—he was always riddled with nightmares.

"Good morning Howl!" Voices, again. This time from a broad faced girl with a much too large nose and a thin smile. She may be pretty to other men, he noticed as she walked past him with the same smile she used every day, but to him, she was nothing. Nothing compared to her. His palm burned and he winced. Dammit, not again. "How was your writing session?" Always the same pestering questions. She was so predictable. Why did she even bother? He was a cold-hearted, broken spirited man who couldn't understand the way the world revolved. Ever since that agonizing day….

He was thinking about her again. Without answering, he continued onwards, rubbing his temple in frustration. This was so…stupid. So stupid. He had had three years to try and move on, three years to grow as a person and travel the world as he had always wanted to. Yet, Howl couldn't. He wasn't as forgetting as she was, apparently; mastering the four elements at so young of age was a feat in itself (twenty had been a good year for her, he'd read in the Ba Sing Se times). She got to do the things that _they _were going to do. She got to travel and live and thrive and be happy. And yet, he had stayed in the same place since he had left her side, degraded and beaten down. His writings were all he had left—such a keen student on literature at such a young age had helped him continue living these past few years.

Howl let his eyes slowly glance around the marketplace as he walked through, noticing all of the different people. A woman buying a fish, her hair loosely flowing down her back. A man, tall, with dark clothes and a grim smile as he held a book in his hands. Chubby children running down the street, keeping pace with him and laughing when they realized they were faster. He blinked, growing reclusive. All of the people gathered here made him weary. He had grown to be such an introvert in the short time he'd been in Ba Sing Se. There were only a few people he knew well enough to talk to, but they weren't enough to be considered friends. He only had had two close friends in his life; he'd given his life to one and the other…he hadn't spoken to him in months. A secret assignment or something, protecting _her._ Sitch was the only person in the world other than those around him that knew where he was, and he'd made the man promise not to tell a single soul.

Most of the marketplace was relatively empty, though. That was unusual, considering it was a weekday, a prime shopping day for most of the women in the city. He noticed whispers lingering in the air but found himself ignoring it. He didn't care what was going on, to be frank. He just wanted to get home and rest again. He needed it after a night full of horrible dreams following him no matter where he went to escape them. It was there problem.

His home finally appeared, after making his way through the painful marketplace. It was small, as needed for only himself and his books, but it was nice enough for him to enjoy. He unlocked the door and dropped his bag on the inside, yawning. A nap wouldn't be too bad, especially since he didn't have to meet his…

There was an awkward presence in the home—he immediately noticed it. It was as if the air was thick, dark, mysterious. After years of studying and training to be successful as a White Lotus guard, he knew when things weren't right. Something was wrong. The fact that the entirety of the house was dark, and he always left at least one or two lights on. His heart pounded uncontrollably as he moved to shut the door, letting out a loud creak as he did. There went his stealth, along with his sanity. "Anyone there?" He called out, frowning. Shadows were moving when there was nothing to move them. The walls seemed alive with hidden creatures, darkness lingering in the air. His head was spinning at the thought of someone breaking into his home. Would they steal his new typewriter? He would kill them if he had to, that was brand new, and expensive!

He found the switch on the wall with his long fingers and flipped it on, his frown growing. When the electricity sputtered to life, the shadows stopped moving. The living room seemed empty, until his gaze found a single helmet on the lumpy, old couch. Dark blue and white, a lotus pattern covering the front. His mind went blank at the sight of it, before footsteps echoed from the kitchen. His gaze hardly reacted to the sight of his oldest friend's face, helmetless and looking tired as ever. "Howl,"

Immediately, Howl grew defensive. "I'm not going back." He said, shaking his head. No matter how good it was to see Sitch, he hated what his friend wore. That same damn uniform he had had to wear; the helmet she had loved to push off so that she could entangle her fingers into his black curls, the cloak they had used as a blanket to keep themselves warm in the coldest of winter nights, the breastplate that would fall to the floor with a clank every time she peeled it off his chest…his head was spinning again. He felt himself lean against the doorway, too tired and weak from the painful memories to stand.

Sitch ran a hand through his hair. It was getting shaggy, Howl noticed, and he knew his friend would have to cut it sooner or later. White Lotus guards weren't supposed to let their hair grow out in the summer months in hotter regions. "It's been three years, Howl."

"I'm not going back."

"Can't you just get over her?"

Howl flinched so hard that he hit his head against the wall. His jaw fell at the sound of his friend's suggestion. Like he hadn't tried! There wasn't anything he wanted more than to get her out of his head but he…it was impossible. He should never have been so stupid, and hearing his only friend pester him was tiring. "Get out," He said under his breath, letting his head fall. There was no point anymore. He was too tired to think. When Sitch hardly moved, Howl huffed and let himself slide down the wall, falling to the floor slowly. "I don't want you here. I don't want anyone here. I just want to be left alone."

There was a long, agonizing moment of silence. Howl knew his friend's black eyes were boring into his head, but he wouldn't win. Sitch had and would always be impatient, no matter how old he grew. Finally, after a while of sitting and waiting for his friend to snap, Sitch sighed. "...I'm sorry," He said. His boots clanked across the wooden floor as he moved to the front door. Howl didn't look up—he had buried himself in his knees, his sanctuary and planned to stay that way until the other man left. As the door creaked open, he heard the older man sigh. "…She's in the city, if you want to make things up with her…."

There wasn't anything he wanted more in the world. But he knew that she would have the other boy who'd stolen her heart better than he had on her arm at all times. He knew that they were the hit item in the tabloids and magazines. He knew that they had saved Republic City and the world multiple times. He knew that the boy was better than he was.

He knew that he could never win her back.


	2. Pressure

_A/N Please excuse me as I am trying to get back into the flow of the characters. 3 _

Seeing her was like heaven, no matter where they were. She hadn't changed a bit—she was still the same girl he had known all those years. Beautiful cyan eyes shimmering against the ice, her laughter ringing up as Naga tackled him to the ground. That dog had such a tendency to give him a pain, but he cared for her no matter what she did. The animal made her happy and he would do nothing to ruin that happiness. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders loosely as she threw a snowball towards him, her laughter once again echoing around the empty camp.

He wanted to tackle her and pin her down until she begged for mercy, but even that was a rarity. Don't get caught. Don't let people see you hanging out with her. Don't let anyone grow suspicious. He struggled to keep from smiling and moving, too afraid to make any direct advances in fear of losing his job. The Order would strip him of his position and leave him to freeze in the cold, South Pole weather. It wasn't just that he wanted to live a long life, but he didn't want to lose this job. It meant being around her. It meant keeping her safe in a way only he knew he could do.

So he did nothing, even as she provoked him. She was grinning, happily, and it was making his stomach and head ache at the thought of not being able to laugh along with her. She threw another snowball at him and it hit him square in the chest, icy cold. His walls to protect himself from her broke and he laughed, unable to hold it in anymore. Their laughter mingled and rose through the camp, until he was bent over because his stomach hurt so much from chuckling. The minute he glanced up, however, he noticed that she wasn't smiling anymore. She wouldn't even look at him anymore. Finally, he noticed what she was so keen on looking at. A dark, tall boy with short hair and much brighter, stoic golden eyes leaned against the wall. Howl struggled, reaching out desperately to take Korra's hand, but her fingers faded against his touch. She was already distant. No, he wanted to blurt, kicking against the invisible wall and take her into his own arms instead of the other man's. He wanted her, he needed her. They were one in the same, kept together by a single blood pact….

The minute she touched the other boy, Howl lurched from the bed, his head spinning with the memories and thoughts. Spirits, why wouldn't the nightmares just _go away?_ They were torturous. His heartbeat, erratic and leaving him breathless, slowly returned to normal, the thought of her fading gradually. He had grown used to waking up alone in bed, but it was hard knowing she was around some other boy constantly. With a sigh, he glanced at his left palm, where a thin but raised scar rested from the minute he had sold his life away to her. It burned, throbbing, as he kicked the sheets back and walked to the cabinet, grabbing a fresh set of clothes. Not that he had anywhere to be today, but he was tired of sitting alone by the typewriter and wait for the ideas to come.

Shrugging on the shirt, he managed to walk down the stairs without bumping his head on the roof. He hated being this tall sometimes and living in such a small home. Ignoring the thought of breakfast, he grabbed his pack and notebooks before opening the door and sighing at how busy the streets already were. _She's in the city, if you want to make things up to her._ Sitch didn't know the truth behind what had happened. He assumed Korra must have told him her side of the story, seeing as that was how Sitch presumed things. It was too long of a story to explain. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and started off towards the same place he went every day—his library, his safe haven when he wasn't at home.

Everybody loved their Avatar. Pushing and pulling against the crowd, Howl struggled to make his way through the masses of people. Spirits, he hated busy days. Especially in the summer, too. They were hot and agonizing, and touching sweaty men and women was on the bottom of his list of what he wanted to do. Living in the downtown area of Ba Sing Se had its perks, but this wasn't one of them. Finally, he pushed into the alleyway between two of the buildings, knowing all of the shortcuts to get to the library. It was dark, and he hated it, but it was better than being stuck with everyone else shifting and moving for whatever reason. He pushed back into the sunlight a few blocks down, spotting one of the people he'd grown to know in the three years he'd been in the city. _No, please, don't see me,_ he wanted to beg as he picked up his pace. "Howl!" He heard and flinched, letting his head hang. "Hey, did you hear? The Avatar's in the city!"

"Yes, I heard," He mumbled, not sticking around to hear the rest of the conversation. Finally spotting the library, he sighed when he noticed a crowd gathering farther down the street. Curiosity had always been a weakness as he passed the building he had been so keen on getting to and starting to the crowd of people. As he moved farther into the masses, his gaze began to wander. There, he began to notice the deep blues and white, as well as the swords hooked at the base of belts. His stomach instantly twisted when he realized where he was headed—at the sight of some of his comrades, including Sitch, he knew they were protecting her at all costs. Howl flinched, struggling to break past the people that had begun to surround him from all sides. If he even saw her…if she saw _him…_ he'd be ruined. He had to get out of there. Keeping his eyes shut, he pushed with all his might through the thick crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when he was away from them all. He finally pushed into the library, closing the door behind him and glancing around, surrounded by books and scrolls.

A smile crept across his face the more he weaved through the shelves, picking up novels and running his hands over the delicate covers, the smell of them sending shivers down his back. He placed them in his pack before glancing up and meeting the black eyes of his longtime friend. "…Sitch, we're not talking about it here." He whispered, starting towards the staircase that led to his writing room. The guard shifted from side to side, looking uncomfortable surrounded by the books. Howl frowned; he wasn't going to let it go, was he? He wasn't going to let Howl live in solitude, live where he knew he could at least stand to be, and Howl knew it. He sighed.

"…Can we at least talk about it?" Sitch asked, looking almost…sheepish? His dark hair fell in his eyes.

"Not now." Howl said, turning to the staircase. After climbing up halfway, he realized that his friend still hadn't turned to leave. "…Maybe one day. But not now."


	3. Nothing

It was dark by the time he reached his house, twisting the key and opening the door. Farther down the street, he could hardly ignore the classy jazz and slow swing music as someone celebrated. What were they celebrating, he wondered with a sad sigh. As the music changed from the fast paced jazz beat, he heard laughter ringing up, just like it had the night he and Korra had danced. Her laughter echoed in his ears, so close that he swore he could reach out and touch her and pull her back into his life. It slowly grew louder and louder until he was wincing at the pressure in his head, and he slammed the door shut, rubbing his temples in agony.

He set his pack down and glanced around his virtually empty flat. It was plain, like everything else in his stupid life, but not sloppy. His habits from his time as a White Lotus guard hadn't changed, that was for sure. He couldn't stand messes and, even though the house was bare, he was thankful it was tidy. As he moved around the coffee table and into the kitchen, a loud explosion caught him off guard. His gaze flickered out of the window to see multiple different colors of fireworks sending sparkling embers into the opening down the road. Another few shot up as the others died, this time filled with reds and oranges and yellows as they twisted and turned. Howl rolled his eyes and closed the blinds, turning his focus to his late meal.

The fireworks got progressively louder as he placed his dumplings on the table and pulled out a chair. Normally, he wouldn't have been so cynical and cold about them—frankly, he enjoyed the light shows put on whenever he was walking through the city—but it was something about the thought that she was in the city or that those fireworks were for her. He took a bite of another dumpling and grumbled as one shook the house entirely, the lights flickering. I swear, if they knock the power out….he shut his eyes, pushed himself away from the table, and walked back into the kitchen. Flashes of light slipped in between the blinds as he opened one of the cabinets above the stovetop, finding hard alcohol and nearly slamming it on the table. He hadn't drank in months, but now seemed like the most necessary time.

He wasn't hungry anymore, as he poured his glass to the brim and downed it, the burning sensation leaving his throat dry and raw. Though he hadn't been able to hold his alcohol very well as a teenager, he was finding it useful in the past few months. Ever since his damn birthday, all he had wanted was to learn how to be looser, to let things go. It had been his resolution for his twenty first year; to get over her would be a feat in itself. He just wanted to move on.

The alcohol numbed his mind briefly as he poured himself some more of the hard liquor. Drinking alone was a terrible idea, but it was something he'd gotten used to. Instead of downing the hard shot, this time he sipped at it, the necessity to block out his thoughts slowly fading as they did. His dumplings were growing cold, but he was well over the fact that he was so hungry, as he moved them to the kitchen counter and walked with the alcohol bottle in hand to the living room, plopping down on the couch and putting the glasses on the table. Already his head seemed to be spinning, tickling his senses and sending shivers down his spine. His fingers were freezing—he hadn't been this cold since the day he'd left the South Pole. His chest burned as he tried to settle down and draped his arm over his head, the searing whiteness filling his vision as he stared out across the barren tundra that he'd called his home for three years. Hearing her laughter as she ran up beside him. Even in his drunken state, he couldn't get her happiness out of his head. It had been all that had mattered to him.

He poured himself another shot and, this time, didn't waste time as he downed the hard alcohol. It once again burned as it slithered down his throat, threatening to burn his stomach into lava. How much would it take for him to get her out of his mind? He didn't want to forget her, forget their time together. He just wanted to forget the way her hair felt as she rested against her chest, the way she smelled like the sweetest jasmine as it moved in the wind by the sea. He wanted to lose himself so much that he couldn't remember how soft her skin felt as it moved underneath her fingers or the determination in her cyan eyes as she took dominance. How plump her lips felt, how sweet they tasted when they were laced with honey. How gentle she was when she moved down his body, leaving a thin trail of kisses as she did. Howl threw the pillow behind his head off of the couch and downed another glass. Damn him for letting it go that far. Damn him for letting her wrap him around her finger. Damn it all.

There was a subtle knock on the door—or was it the fireworks?—as his mind went completely hazy. Four shots of that liquor and he was already a mess, running his hands through his black curls with a hot sigh. He didn't want to get it, knowing it could be his acquaintances inviting him down the street to watch the light show, or it could be that stupid girl who always said hello to him when he walked home from the library. He just wanted to be left alone. Why were people trying so hard to insert themselves into his life like that? The knock came again, the knocker persistent. He figured the person wouldn't leave if he didn't answer the door. With a mighty heave, he managed to stand up and walk towards the door. His head was spinning harder as he opened it, and it was like a slam to the gut when he saw Sitch. "Dammit, I said not now," He growled, pulling the door back with every intention on slamming it. Sitch frowned, catching it without hesitation. Howl turned and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was too drunk to deal with his closest friend like this now. "Whatever," He said, letting go of the door and moving back to the living room.

He heard the familiar clanking of Sitch's boots as the man walked in and was surprised that the older guard hadn't said a word. He was concerned about that, and the fact that he'd been everywhere Howl had been the past two days, almost. Did that mean Korra was close by, or was it just that he couldn't stand to see him? As he fell onto the couch—literally—Sitch finally came inside and shut the door behind him, setting his helmet on the handrail by the steps. Howl watched as the man's black eyes surveyed the room, like a professional guard all over again. His eyes found the alcohol on the table, as well as the empty glass, before he turned to face Howl, looking both sorry and mad. "…It's been three years, Howl." Each word was careful and precise, his voice monotone as he tried to make a point. "Three years. Not months, not days, not hours, but years. How are you not over her yet?"

Howl couldn't bring himself to meet the other man's gaze, and he wished he hadn't thrown the pillow so that he could strangle himself with it. The fire that the alcohol had put in his stomach was making him burn with anger and depression as he sat up. "How? I'm not like you, Sitch," His words were venomous, and instantly he knew that whether he was sober or not, he would regret them later. "I don't take a new woman every ten minutes," He saw as his friend visibly flinched, and he knew he'd hit a soft point. He knew that Sitch had grown better at being a romancer when he and Korra had first gotten together, and it showed in the hurt on his friend's face. "I gave my life to her. I sacrificed everything. Almost all of me is still hers, and I'll never get it back." He was raising his voice, his anger threatening to ruin the remains of their friendship.

He knew Sitch was angry, too. "Move on!" His friend shouted, crossing his arms. Howl flinched at how easy he made it sound. Moving on and meeting a girl who looked nothing like Korra, who had green or brown or gold eyes instead of the incredible cyan that he'd grown to know and love. Moving on and falling in love with her, and knowing that she could never break his heart. Moving on and marrying, and having kids of his own run around his legs and call him their father and make the best out of his presence. Spirits, he would love that. But part of him knew that he would always love Korra, that he could never give Korra up. He knew deep inside him that he would make mistakes and call out Korra's name in bed or get angry with his wife and say something stupid that she wasn't Korra and that she would never be Korra. It wouldn't be fair to her, nor would it be fair to him. He would struggle the most, trying to keep Korra's name off of her tongue. He couldn't stop loving her.

"I tried," He whispered, defeated as his hands fell into his hands. He couldn't even bear to look at the man while he was being yelled at. "Spirits, I tried. Why the hell would I even be here, in Ba Sing Se, if I hadn't tried?" He wondered if Sitch even cared that he felt so broken, so depressed. His palm ached and burned and he honestly just wanted to slit hit hand and drain it of her blood…but he knew that by now it had spread throughout the rest of his body and that he would never be able to give that back. They had made a blood pact—a broken one—and he had paid for his stupidity.

"…Howl…." Even his friend's voice sounded pitiful, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He would have immediately pushed it away, but he was too weak to, too tired. He knew that the minute he tried, Sitch would just put it back on his shoulder or give it a reassuring squeeze. It may have been what he needed, but it wasn't what he wanted.

"Go away." He spat.

"I just want to help…."

Of course he did. No matter what, Sitch had always helped. Taking the extra guard duty so that Howl and Korra could do the ultimate act of love. Keeping their relationship a secret, that no doubt would have gotten him fired the minute the two were found out. He was just that kind of friend, but it wasn't the friend that Howl wanted anymore. He wanted to be alone. He just wanted to be alone, because nobody understood him and his actions, and they never would. He glanced at Sitch with a frown, noticing the look on his friend's face. Pity. Such a worthless emotion. Howl cursed inwardly and looked away. "I have a deadline to meet. Get out." For a moment, Sitch refused. "Get out!" Howl shouted, turning away and burying his face into his hands.

It wasn't that he didn't want his friend.

He just didn't want to lose anyone again.


End file.
